


Still, waiting

by Orion_fics



Series: Patience [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-07
Updated: 2006-06-07
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orion_fics/pseuds/Orion_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finally gets what he wants. Eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still, waiting

It would be hard for John to explain to anyone else. It’s hard for him to understand himself at times. The need he has to be like this. The reaction he has to Carson. It isn’t a matter of being commanded and obeying – the conscious decision that implies doesn’t seem to exist for him. How can he put into words the feeling he gets when Carson draws himself up and speaks to him? The ache in the back of his knees that can only be satisfied by kneeling. The weight of his head that draws it down before his lover. This isn’t a game – it‘s more than that, it is something within him, something he had not discovered before and the vulnerability it brings scares him. But a look into Carson’s eyes is all that he needs to dispel his fears. He knows Carson will never hurt him, he can trust him with this, with himself. 

He kneels upright on the floor by Carson’s desk where Carson has placed him. Naked, he can’t escape the exposure he feels, the room’s cool air caressing his skin as breezes enter through the open window. His arms are pulled behind him, slightly stretched so that he is just aware of the tension in his upper arms. Wide leather cuffs enclose his wrists, joining them, the material soft, moulding itself to their shape, a somehow comforting pressure, holding him securely even as he pulls against them, gently testing their strength.

His collar lies around his neck. It is thicker leather than that of the cuffs, heavy and stiff. Just bigger than his neck it sits above his collar bone, a slight pressure that he is aware of only when it moves, a sensation like no other. Just to think about his appearance and what it implies makes him hard and he aches.

Carson is working at the desk beside him, the inevitable paperwork of a busy day in the infirmary. With his head bowed John can see Carson’s legs at the periphery of his vision. Every so often, impatient for more, he glances up, watching the look of concentration on Carson’s face as he works, his gaze returning quickly to the floor if he catches his lover’s eye. But Carson just smiles, and with his free hand reaches to caress John, stroking his hair, fingers moving softly to stroke his neck, an absent-minded movement that is now familiar to both of them.

As Carson’s hand moves down the side of his face John finds himself leaning into it, savouring the touch. When the hand moves to his neck it nudges the collar and the sensation goes straight to John’s cock. A quiet moan escapes his lips, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from complaining when Carson’s hand returns to the desk. He could protest now, he knows, and Carson would probably listen, but if he doesn’t, if he keeps quiet now then he knows that later it will be all the better. Somehow altering his reactions for Carson’s sake has become something he wants to do, the knowledge of how much he would be willing to do, if Carson only asked, means more than his physical need. So instead he simply watches, head down, lost in his surrender.

At last Carson rises, a finger under John’s collar brings him to his feet and the same action draws him across the room after his lover. With the addition of Carson’s finger, the collar becomes tight around John’s neck, he is aware of the sensation over anything else. The pressure on the back of his neck pulling him forwards; he has no choice but to follow. The sense of powerlessness is overwhelming – his hands are bound, he is being led, but there is nothing unpleasant about it. Instead a feeling of deep calm comes over him. He relaxes, allows himself to be turned, and when Carson removes the cuffs he waits to be told before lying on the bed.

John lies there, his whole body relaxed, as he watches Carson undress. He never gets tired of the sight of the muscular lines of his lover’s body. He revels in its power, the surprising strength of a body that spends most of the day in a lab. But as Carson joins him on the bed and catches his mouth in a kiss all thoughts escape him. This is the sign that the waiting is over. The silence preceding the moment will now be broken and soon John will be begging and Carson will be urging, and even the thought of what is to come makes John moan into the kiss. Carson is in control, plundering John’s mouth, claiming him, but John is not passive in return, he welcomes Carson, makes his acceptance known, and his arms move up to pull Carson’s body closer to him, chest to chest, their breathing mirrored in their movements, John doesn’t ever want to let go, he could lie like this forever.

But Carson has other plans, he breaks the kiss, pulling back and looking down at John’s face below him.

“Carson!” It wasn’t a whine, because John doesn’t whine. It wasn’t even begging, though he knows that that will come later. No, it’s just encouragement because he knows that now he is finally going to get what he’s been waiting for, what he’s spent the nights offworld dreaming about, anticipating, and which Carson denied him earlier he knows it will be all the sweeter for the wait.

Carson shuffles down the bed, his body lying between John’s legs, he looks at John’s cock as it rises to meet him, then glances up to meet his lover’s eyes. A grin, and Carson envelops the head of John’s cock, and it’s all that John can do to stop himself from crying out. And then Carson’s tongue sweeps around the head, and he can’t stop, and he’s crying Carson’s name and asking for more. His hands are in Carson’s hair, stroking, almost reassuring himself of his presence, but he is careful not to try and control his movements. He knows that what happens now is Carson’s choice, not his, and if he tries to change it then Carson might stop, and Oh god, John doesn’t know what he’d do if Carson stopped now because he’s taking him deeper into his mouth and all the time he’s sucking and then he opens his mouth slightly and the inrush of cool air on John’s moist skin almost hurts with the sensation. And then Carson takes his whole cock into his mouth, and somewhere in the back of his mind where two brain cells can still string together some logical thought John vows once again that he’s going to learn to do this if it kills him because the sensation is just so…but the muscles of Carson’s throat tighten around his cock and he’s lost and he’s coming and crying Carson’s name, and whimpers come from his mouth that he’d deny to anyone but Carson, as the last of his come is swallowed and Carson releases him.

John lies back on the bed, his muscles tightened from arousal have softened and his whole body feels limp so that as Carson reaches and pushes him over he has to force himself to think and help with the movement. Then lying on his front he just gives in, relaxing into the mattress, blissed out, still aware of the dip of the bed below him where Carson is lying again, and when John feels Carson’s hands on his arse, parting his cheeks and the sensation of Carson’s tongue entering him and he wonders what he could possibly have done to get this lucky. Carson’s tongue flicks his entrance, then pushes deeper, and the feeling is so perfect that John wishes he was a teenager again, because he can feel twitches from his cock even now, but he doesn’t think he’s got it in him, just for a few minutes.

Not that that is going to stop Carson, who obviously has more faith in him than that, as he moves back and John feels a cold sensation briefly as Carson’s lubed finger enters him, soon joined by another, opening him up, every so often just brushing his prostate so that John’s whole body moves back, seeking the touches, trying to prolong them. But Carson’s not having it and his other hand comes to rest in the small of John’s back, a firm steady pressure, pushing him down onto the bed so that he can only lie there and take the teasing. John’s tempted to say something but he’s still feeling weak from earlier, and he’s not sure that the best time to start a debate is when he has a finger up his arse. He’s tried that before and the thought of repeating the torture that Carson put him though is enough so that he relaxes, Carson’s hand no longer needing to exert a pressure, just resting now, a reminder of what he wants, an unspoken command between the two.

Even with his good behaviour, and John thinks that this is very good behaviour from him, it seems like forever as he lies there. Carson isn’t showing any signs of changing position, unlike John’s cock which is decidedly interested in the attention, and he tries to shift his hips slightly to find more comfortable position for its swelling. But the pressure on his back increases and he stills, urging himself back into relaxation, surrendering to Carson’s touch. Concentrating only on the feel of his lover’s hands on his body, their touch, their movements, every small pressure of Carson’s finger, so that he abandons himself to the sensation and his own body’s needs are momentarily forgotten.

At last Carson stops and John feels empty without his touch, the hand is gone from his back too, and he feels somehow exposed without the contact of his lover, but Carson’s hands move to his hips, and he allows himself to be positioned on Carson’s thighs, taking weight on his forearms, but allowing his lover to manoeuvre him to his liking.

Carson enters him with little warning, and John begins to hope that the torture is over, but as Carson stops and then slowly, painfully slowly, edges forward, he gets the feeling that it’s only just beginning. Gradually he feels himself being filled, stretching to receive Carson until he feels Carson’s skin on his own and he’s full, he’s complete. He pushes back slightly, urging Carson to continue, and is rewarded only by a hand stroking his back, lazily drawing patterns on the skin, the light sensation in sharp contrast to the dull ache below, each feeding on the other as John tries to predict what will come next.

“Carson, please” There’s a whimper at the end that he hadn’t intended, but he can’t help himself with Carson, and Carson knows it. “Come on, have you got a stopwatch or something? Are we waiting for anything in particular” There’s a chuckle from behind him, he feels Carson’s body shake and after the stillness even this tiny movement excites him. But Carson’s body is bending over his own, his mouth coming to John’s ear so that he first feels the breaths over the sensitive skin, and then hear the words as Carson growls them, his accent thickening as it always does when they’re like this.

“That was a mistake John, we’re not waiting for anything, we’ve got all the time in the world.” John could practically feel the smirk on Carson’s lips behind him, “Though maybe I could be persuaded”

And then he’s moved back again and is slowly withdrawing from John and just as gradually pushing back in. A sign of their experience, his angle just brushes John’s prostate with each stroke, but it’s agonizingly slow and the sensation isn’t enough for John, it’s just a tease, a promise, and part of him doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, while the other part is just urging it to continue.

“Any particular methods of persuasion you’d care to share?” He tries his best not to whine. It’s a sarcastic comment, he knows it is, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth Carson moved inside him and somehow the emphasis seems to have changed.

“No, no, I’m alright” and John thinks that Carson has no right to sound as casual as that, as if this is just a normal conversation and John isn’t lying there naked, aching and hard again and just on the point of begging, when Carson’s hands move from his hips and pass underneath his body, stroking up his stomach, feather-light so that his stomach muscles contract as they pass, just brushing his cock, but avoiding it when he tries to follow, until they come to his chest, and begin to circle his nipples, one on each side, their movements synchronised, still slow, their pace mirroring the excruciatingly slow thrusts. John has no idea how Carson can do this to him. He need more but each time he pushes back Carson stops and it is only when John forces his trembling body to still that his lover resumes his tantalising rhythm Until suddenly one hand pinches a nipple, and the unexpected sensation causes John to withdraw, pushing himself back onto Carson, as he cries out.

It seems like a signal, because John is aware of Carson’s arm around his chest now, pulling him up so that his back is against Carson and then both hand are on his chest again, playing with him, but now their tempo has changed. It’s rapid and erratic, one moment stroking softly, the next pinching, and sudden descents to stroke his cock, or squeeze, each time causing him to move on his lover’s cock, fucking himself as he both seeks and retreats from the sensations.

Then Carson’s head is on his shoulder, and he is sucking gently on his neck, pushing the collar up slightly for better access, the sensations are too much, he doesn’t know what to concentrate on – the glorious feeling of Carson within him, the teasing of his hands, the claiming of his neck or the possession of the collar once more brought to the forefront of his mind.

“Carson, please, Cars…” and he breaks down, he doesn’t think he can make coherent words any more, only noises and whimpers escape his throat, with the occasional please thrown in for good measure until he feels Carson smile against his neck.

“That’s what I was waiting for” and he can feel Carson’s cock pulsing inside him, even as his hand now surrounds John’s cock, stroking briskly up, but little sensation is needed before John is coming again, crying out as Carson bites down on his neck, marking him, claiming him, and he collapses back against Carson’s body, completely drained, weak, just seeking the protection of his lover that Carson never fails to provide.

And so Carson gently lowers him to the bed, rolling him on his side and lying next to him, pressing their bodies together, as much contact as is possible, and John can’t explain it, doesn’t think he ever will be able to, this feeling of completeness that Carson brings him, the sanctuary he finds when Carson is there, where he can leave his defences outside and know that he is safe. 

Carson moves to John’s neck, reaching for the collar but is stopped by John’s hands surrounding his wrists.

“No, not now. Morning” and it is enough so that Carson leaves it and is content to lie down again and look at John as he lies before him; naked apart from this one adornment; that Carson has placed there, that he will remove. His.


End file.
